Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover
by Keesha
Summary: Bending the timeframe, this is set after the fuel is lost. Another trip to the wreck of the Resolute is undertaken. NOTE: Formatting was corrected.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Welcome to my first foray into this universe. I don't have a beta in this fandom, so I did my best to catch any errors by using the 'read-aloud' feature in Word. A bit creepy, but useful. Those who have read other things I have written know I have a love/hate relationship with the comma. This time I placed them where it sounded good when the male-robotic voice read aloud. Proper English, probably not. Understandable? Hope so.

This is the first chapter of an envisioned longer piece. I decided to post it and see how it floats. All the standard cops-outs apply. Just playing with the characters, no infringement intended, etc. And if anyone is interested in being a beta, PM me. I like working with betas and have worked with great ones in other fandoms.

* * *

He stood on the ramp of the Wantanabe's Jupiter surveying the scenery. His backpack was slung over his shoulder and Debbie's head poked out of the top of it. Only he, Don West, would crash land on a family friendly planet; so not his environment. With a low growl, he continued down the ramp, walking away from the ship into the forest.

When the Resolute was being attacked and the integrity of the hull breeched, hitching a ride on that Jupiter had seemed like their best option. But Tam had died because of his suggestion. People might think of him as a lowly mechanic, but he was also a damn good pilot thanks to Space Command, otherwise known as SpaCom a rather unfortunate nickname. No one could have landed that Jupiter any better than he did, given the conditions of the flight. And still, Tam died. She might still be alive if they had stayed onboard the Resolute and taken their chances.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Don swiftly walked through the sparse forest towards Jupiter 2, the home of the ever-disapproving Robinson's. When it came to him, he could do no right in their eyes. They were so family-centric. Everyone on this god-forsaken planet was and he was a mongrel that flit around the edge of their world, trying to pretend he fit in…or not.

He had been judged all his life by people for his choices, people who had no idea what it was like to live in his world. There was no home. No parents who paid for things…or loved you. There was the streets or the orphanages. Jail or the military. Mechanic or pot-head. Smuggler or drug dealer. He thought he had made pretty good choices, so far, except when it came to the Robinsons. But damn it, there was something about them he liked…even admired. How they were there for each other, no matter what. He wondered what that kind of life was like…a fairy-tale his cynical soul told him. Look after yourself baby cause no one else will do it.

Take his living and dining arrangements since he had been rescued by the Wantanabe's. They had offered him shelter from the storm, a place to crash, food. But it was very clear he didn't belong there…fit into their family structure. And he felt it was like that everywhere he went. He was another set of helping hands, but he really didn't have a place in their rank and structure. So, he did what he always did, survived. He showed up at meal time to get fed and moved around to find places to sleep in whatever Jupiter would have him. Barged in uninvited whenever necessary because if he didn't, he was sure they'd simply leave him aside, or behind, like everyone else had done in his life.

Don West belonged nowhere unless he made himself a place. So, given his current options, the Robinson's seemed like a cool place. However, he knew they weren't going to fling open their arms and if he didn't try to claw his way in, he'd be abandoned. Literally and figuratively. Even if they got off this planet and back to the Resolute, they'd eventually go on to their mythical Alpha Centauri and he'd go back to scratching out a living by coloring outside the lines and dreaming of a life where he belonged.

As he trudged along, he thought more about the Robinsons. Mrs. Robinson, what a tough lady. Smart, strong, opinionated, she was nobody's fool. He knew where he ranked with her…nowhere. On a scale of 1 to 10, he didn't even register. If he ever said something right to her, it was followed by ten more remarks in her mind that were moronic…or just plain wrong. Yet, like a moth to a flame, he was attracted to her, though not sexually. But for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, he wanted her to see he wasn't the scum she thought he was…not really.

Then there was Mr. Robinson, John. He could think of him having a first name, John. The thought of calling Mrs. Robinson Maureen, left Don shivering in terror. But John was someone he at least understood on the surface. A tough guy that would do anything to protect his family, to include killing any handsome smuggler who let his chocolate brown eyes linger too long on his eldest daughter. More on her later. But John. Ex-Marine. Strong as they come. Not a stupid man unless he was standing amongst his prodigy children and wife. Still, he was no dumb-bunny. Don felt that John kind of got him, at least on some levels. He got the impression John had been around the block once or twice and knew more of the real world than the fairy-tale one his wife lived in. He'd bet Mrs. Robinson never lacked for any material thing in her life. John, however, he felt did understand how the real world operated and probably could relate, at some level, to Don's life.

Judy Robinson. Doctor Robinson. Eighteen-years-old. At that age he had already experienced a lot of life, most of which he wished he could forget. He might have teased her about not going to prom, but he didn't go either, though his excuse was no way as noble as studying for MCATS. He found Judy too serious for his liking and it had become a challenge to not only get her to lighten up but also become a little more realistic about the world. He was afraid she was too sheltered and some day that was going to come crashing down around her. But then again, look at how well she defended herself when she came to some rash conclusion, he was an axe-murderer. That elbow to the nose had been quite effective and her comments, as she patched him up were perceptive. So, maybe she wasn't quite the Princess she appeared to be on the outside.

She was an enigma, he decided. But if he was not sure about who she really was, he was sure that if he didn't keep his admiration within bounds, he had no doubt her father would eradicate him. Honestly, he didn't know what he wanted from Judy, though the thought of having a friend, someone to talk to was appealing. He missed Tam, who was just a good friend despite what people sometimes thought. But, wanting a friend kind of went against the rule that had kept him alive since his parents abandoned him before the age of five. Who the hell does that! Here kid. You're potty-trained, can sort of read, can almost tie your shoes…the world is your oyster. Go forth and conquer. Or die. But, do it out of our sight, please.

Don mentally shook himself to get off that path. That was a long time ago. A box stored away he needed to stay out of to survive. Damn the Robinsons for making him go there. He retrained his focus to the last two Robinsons. Penny. Cool kid. Loved the mouth on her. He had a feeling he could verbally spar with her and have a great time. She could truly be his kid sister. Yes, she was sheltered and way too much of a nerd, but she had gumption. He liked that about Penny.

Will, on the other hand, just made him feel plain stupid. The kid, at eleven, sometimes seemed more mature than Don felt. Again, like a lot of the Robinson's he was a bit doe-eyed, but whereas Don was sure Penny would be able to see reality, as well as Judy, he wondered about Will. Would reality break the kid's innocence or make him insane? He supposed it really didn't matter because the safety net called 'The Robinsons' would be there to catch him, always. Don's mind drifted off the path again wondering what it would be like to have that sort of safety net.

He broke out of the forest by the Jupiter 2 to find Mrs. Robinson outside the ship, doing something of an engineering sort way beyond his years of education. She looked up at him with that stare she had…the one that made him feel like a flasher in a park full of children.

But this was Don West. Not to be deterred. So, he flashed his pearly-whites at her. "Hey. What's for lunch? I'm starving."

While it was a good opening line, meant to deflect, it was the truth. As he wasn't from one of the surviving Jupiters, he literally had to find a place to eat every day. It wasn't like the people on this planet wouldn't be charitable and share their rations with him, but it was the way they did it. It was like, 'Oh yeah. You're still here. Guess we'd better feed you too.'

But hey, that was the life he was used to…fending for himself. So, he walked up to her, still grinning, and waited expectantly as if he really thought she was going to go make him a P&J, or at least find the MRE version of one for him.

He nearly fell over when she said, "I need your help."

TBD


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Debbie was literally plucked out of his hands and deposited in Penny's arms. "No chickens. I don't want you distracted," John declared as he sent Penny back to the ship, hen in hand. Turning back to face Don, he said, "You'll not have the moral dilemma of having to decide whether to save my wife or that chicken."

"Her name is Debbie," Don replied, lightly.

It was obvious to him that John was concerned who he'd choose to save in a crisis and to be fair, maybe the ex-marine should be worried. Mrs. Robinson was being her usual charming self when it came to him. Since the prep for this trip had started, Don had been outright insulted by her three times, been on the receiving end of four innuendos and then there were the comments he couldn't bucket, but he was leaning towards character slurs. Not that he wasn't giving as good as he was getting, with respect, of course. He in turn had offered up six wise-cracks, three dumb-ass remarks, and more smirks than even he could count. He thought they might be tied at the moment.

"Thanks, John, for taking that decision out of my hands," Don quipped as he watched Penny walk away with his chicken. "Stroke her tummy to get her to sleep," he yelled after the departing red-head. "Does your wife like that too?" Don joked as he looked over at John, whose glare said it all. Raising his hands in peace, he mumbled, "Sorry. Too far. I'd never touch your wife's tummy…I mean unless I had to like, uh, to save her life or something. From danger. Not that I'd put your wife in danger."

The thunderclouds covering John's face weren't getting any lighter and the air between them crackled with static electricity.

"Look, West," John snarled as he stepped further into Don's personal space. "I'm not happy at all about the arrangements for this trip. I should be going with my wife, back to that piece of scrap from the Resolute to salvage more supplies. But I need to stay here and handle crowd control with that damn Robot."

"Hell of a piece of machinery," the mechanic mused as he cocked his head and glanced over at the gleaming blue metal. He could have saved himself from a lot of ass-kickings in life if he had that piece of work at his side.

"Could you…" John paused for a moment searching for the right word, "work on it?"

The dark-haired man didn't even answer that question other than to give John an incredulous look that was well-deserved. "I'm a great mechanic. The best. But that thing…", he let the sentence drift off into space.

John sighed, not that he hadn't received the answer he expected. Nobody really knew what that thing was. "Anyway, I need to stay here. We need more stuff from the Resolute according to my insistent wife, she can't go alone, and you know where the wreckage is located."

"She is insistent, isn't she?" Don intertwined with a smirk that he immediately wiped off his face when John's unamused eyes bore into his face. "Yeah, ah, sorry. I guess that is 'husband-only' joke territory."

Don didn't think John could get any closer to him unless he crawled inside his skin, but somehow the irritated man did draw nearer. "I almost lost my wife in a tarpit…"

"And yourself too," Don swiftly interjected.

"Which doesn't matter. You see, West, that is what I need you to understand. I love my wife. The mother of my precious children…"

"Technically, Judy isn't…" The minute the words started to leave Don's mouth he knew he'd crossed the line.

To his credit, John clenched his fist, but didn't use it. "Don't go there, West. Ever."

The mechanic swallowed hard as he dipped his head in acknowledgement. He knew he played with fire more than he should and occasionally got burned in the form of being beaten to a pulp. One look at John's physique told him this match was best left unlit.

"My wife and my children are my life. I would die for them in a heartbeat. Be sure you don't ever put my family in danger, or harm them. And if the choice is their life or yours, think really hard on the right decision," John warned menacingly.

Don, the man who had never had a family, had never seen such unconditional love, was blown away by John's unfathomable passion. Don found himself sweating from the intensity of John's feelings.

"Am I clear, West?" John growled, closing the last millimeter of space between them.

"Crystal," the mechanic gulped, as he involuntarily took a few steps backward to escape.

Unfortunately, Don backed right into Judy, who was walking over to give a bag to her mother. Instinctively, he grabbed Judy to stop them both from tumbling into the dirt. His hands innocently gripped her biceps to steady them. However, under the glaring, disapproving eyes of John, Don felt as if he was groping her chest. He let go of Judy so fast as he stepped away from her, she stumbled and nearly fell over anyway.

John had to contain the smirk that threatened to appear on his lips as he watched Don fumble about. Clearly, he had the cocky little bastard off-balance. Good. It wasn't that men like Don weren't mostly decent guys, but it didn't hurt to keep them on notice.

"You ok, Don?" Judy asked once she recovered her balance and glanced up at him. "You seem flushed." Instinctively, her hand reached upwards towards his forehead. After all, she was a doctor. She swore she heard her father growl under his breath as Don moved out of her reach so fast, she wondered if he thought she had cooties.

"No. No. No. I'm good. More than good. Great. Well, not great but…nothing's wrong. It's just like super hot. The planet must be drifting closer to the sun," he unwittingly jested just as Maureen walked over to see what was going on with the three of them.

Maureen grabbed the mechanic so hard on his bicep that he let out a squeal of indignation. He jerked his arm out of her grasp causing her to stumbled a little. Backing away, Don muttered to John, "I didn't do anything. She started it."

Maureen was furious that somehow this scruffy mechanic had found out about the planet's orbit and she closed in on him again. "How do you know about that!" she hissed, angrily. "Were you spying on us!"

"Spying?" Don stuttered in disbelief. He'd admit he might be more observant then the average Joe, but it was what had kept him alive as he struggled on his own to grow up. Knowledge was power. But he had no idea why he had set Maureen off.

Maureen glanced over at John, realizing her faux pau. It had just been an innocent, but accurate comment. Don caught the glance and his spidey senses went tingly. He had just put his foot into something. About the planet? And the sun? He didn't have time to pursue it any further as Maureen rounded on him again.

Wanting to brush past this quickly, Maureen snapped, "You ready, West? We don't have all day."

"Yes Ma'am," he mocked, straightening his back and giving her a half-salute. After she rolled her eyes at him, he bent over and grabbed his backpack. "Major Donald West reporting for duty."

John's eyes narrowed when Don said Major. He began to wonder if it was another joke, or if there was some truth to the use of the title. Don could be ex-military, he mused. Sometime, when there was the luxury of time, he'd have to ask the younger man. If Don had been in the service, given the behaviors that John had witnessed so far, the man probably was drummed out for insubordination.

Don headed around the front of the Chariot towards the driver' side. As he went to sling his pack in the back seat, he heard Maureen bark, "What are you doing?"

Tossing the pack in the back, he said, "Stowing my gear. I figure this trip is gonna take a day or two and you might appreciate me having a clean pair of underwear."

"My God, West. Do you ever stop?" John groaned, amazed at the amount of verbal diarrhea that spilled forth from this man's mouth. The smirk John got as his answer said it all.

Maureen, once again, shoved Don out of her way. "I'll drive."

Putting his hands up in submission, Don looked over at John and mouthed, "She touched me, first." John wasn't amused.

Eventually, the two were settled in the C-8 that they had borrowed. After John gave his wife a lingering farewell kiss, then the doors closed and the vehicle lumbered away.

Judy, who had stood to one side watching the exchange, sighed. Only a few days ago she, Don and the others had set out to find Don's crashed ship and the fuel. And it was only a few days ago she had her patient die in her arms. It was still so raw that unbidden tears slipped past her lashes. She had been so sure she could save him. But not only was she wrong, she had also caused them to lose the majority of the fuel they were going to use to escape this miserable planet.

John, sensing his daughter's quiet distress and guessing from where it stemmed, walked over and put his arm around her shoulders. Allowing her to keep her grief private, he simply kissed her on the top of her head and said, "They'll come back soon. Safe and sound." Letting his eyes linger on the horizon long after the Chariot was out of sight, John sighed.

"Don't worry, Dad. Don will take care of Mom. He's not a bad guy. He…" Tears welled up in her eyes again. "He risked his life…helped me when no one else would."

John, who had heard the story, nodded. Don wasn't a bad guy. The young man just needed a kickstart in the right direction sometimes.

Unbeknownst to all, Dr. Smith, who was the real spy, lurked on the ramp of the Jupiter, frowning. West was still an unknown quantity to her. She had been manipulating him fairly successfully she thought, though she wasn't one hundred percent sure; it's hard to con a con man. To add to her uncertainty, Don and Judy had come back from the ship that she had been on, the one that crashed in the desert. Had either of them boarded? Been to the real Dr. Smith's cabin? Saw his stuff wasn't hers?

Based on that odd radio call from Judy wanting to speak to her Mom, she was thinking the two had found something. And if they had, they had no doubt shared it with Maureen. Well, that is why she did what she did today. At least two of the people on this planet who might know she wasn't the real Dr. Smith would soon be gone. Looking around, she saw Judy and her Dad. As soon as they split apart, she moved to trail Judy. This was a dangerous planet. Accidents could happen at any time.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Awkward didn't even begin to describe the first hours of their journey in the C-8. His suggestion to listen to music – vetoed. Witty repartee – vetoed. He was so desperate by the second hour of silence, he even offered up that he had some repair manuals on his player that they could listen to, hoping it might appeal to her engineering side. Vetoed.

He began to squirm in his seat trying to get comfortable in the uncommunicative torture chamber into which he was strapped. That earned him a loud, annoyed sigh, and a distasteful sideways glance. At least it was something. When he jokingly told her to keep her eyes on the road, he got the loudest sigh of the trip, yet. Perhaps, he thought, there was entertainment value in trying to see how loud and how often he could make her sigh. What held him back was the thought that she wouldn't hesitate to haul off and hit him at some point for being annoying. He was willing to bet that would be as painful as the silence.

"You don't like me very much do you," he finally said in his direct manner. He didn't give her a chance to respond, or shut him down, but kept on prattling.

"Yeah. I get it. Nothing I'm not used to. When you want something repaired, it's Ok for me to be seen in public. Otherwise, I'm shoved in the closet, out of sight, out of mind until the next broken item. I'm good enough to repair your expensive, delicate, engines, but not good enough to date your daughter…NOT, that I want to date any of your daughters. I mean I'm not saying they aren't good looking… not that I was looking or anything. I mean all guys check out women, right? Even John, I bet. I think it is built into our DNA or something. Like we need to look, just in case there is some huge disaster that wipes out the population and we might be called upon to repopulate it…or something like that. Not that I think we are remotely in a situation like that where your daughters would have to rebuild the world, though in a way if we never got off this planet, I suppose they would. Again, not saying they'd have to do it with present company, though contrary to your thoughts I have had all my shots and am not as rabid as you think…but probably as stupid as…," he let his voice trail off, once again having dialogued himself into a verbal corner.

She glanced over at him then back out the front windshield. Silence settled over the compartment again and Don decided to close his eyes and see if sleep would overtake him. He was usually pretty good at being able to nap in strange places. You had to be when you never had a real home. Sleep anywhere, at any time and be a light sleeper, able to wake fast and move out. Like a hunted animal, which, when you were sleeping were you didn't belong, was a true analogy. Just as he was about to drift off, she spoke to him.

"What were you doing on that Jupiter? And what happened to the family who was supposed to be onboard it?" she asked, her voice having a rather sharp-edge.

Obviously, it was something that she had pondered and already had a conclusion that painted him in the worse light possible. Not, that the truth wasn't pretty grim. He wondered if he could ignore her, pretend to be asleep. But he decided that answering her was probably no worse than not answering her. So, he opened his eyes and squirmed in his seat for a few seconds.

"Do these things have seat heaters? Cause I think mine is set to grill," he joked as he finally settled down. "My partner and I were suited up, answering a call about a hull breech that had to be repaired. You were there. You heard the announcement to evacuate the Resolute."

"Yes, for the Jupiter families to evacuate, as a precaution," she corrected him stressing the word families.

A small scowl settled in the corner of his lips. "Families. Always families. Tam and I were a family, of sorts."

"Your partner was a woman?" she asked.

Don detected a touch of condemnation in her tone. "It's not what you're thinking. Tam was a great mechanic. I taught her everything she knew and she blew me away at times with her intuition. But contrary to what you are insinuating, we were just good friends. Nothing more."

With grumpiness for having been caught, Maureen testily replied, "I wasn't thinking that."

"Yeah. You were," Don said with a smile, but he held no malice towards her. Everyone always thought the worst of him and sometimes, they were probably right. But not when it came to his dealings with women. He always treated them with respect.

"So," he went on with his tale, "people were running down the halls and we could see their injuries. Ones that were not caused by a hull breech, or tripping, or anything human. Tam and I came across a docked Jupiter and decided we'd have a better chance staying alive aboard it than on the Resolute. So, as we were working to open the hatchway…"

"The Jupiters are wired to transponders only given to family members," Maureen reminded him.

Don gave her a sideways look that was tinged with a hint of disbelief at her naivety. "I'm a mechanic," he annunciated slowly. "And I am very good at what I do. I can fix your toaster or hotwire your ship. Whatever the job calls for."

"I see," she said in her judgmental, non-approving Robinson tone. Don swore it was a genetic trait they all shared designed to make him feel like a low-life.

"Yeah, well if you ever get locked out of your precious spaceship, you'll be glad for my badass skills," he defended the slight.

"I didn't mean…well, maybe I did," she confessed, truthfully. "You are a rogue."

He shrugged off the word as if it were nothing. "It has kept me alive, so far. So, as we were working to open the door, Dr. Smith comes running up with an official transponder in her jacket, opens the door and invites us in. End of story."

"Didn't you wonder about the rest of the family members who were supposed to be on that Jupiter?"

"Lady, I am not that much of a monster. Sheesh." He paused for a moment to remember how the conversation had gone. "I asked her about the rest of her family and she said they wouldn't be coming. I thought she meant they had been killed, so I said I was sorry and she gave me a sad smile. She seemed kind of lost, dazed as if she had suffered a tragedy."

"And what happened to your partner, Tam?" she asked, glancing over at him when he didn't reply.

Don shifted his eyes to stare out the side window of the chariot. He hadn't let himself think much about Tam. Well, except when she haunted his dreams at night, making him wonder if she'd still be alive if they had chosen a different course of action; if he had chosen a different path for them. Finally, he said quietly, "She died. In the crash."

Try as he might to hide it, Maureen could hear the pain in the younger man's voice. "I'm sorry," she said sympathetically.

"She knew what she signed up for," he said crassly though Maureen knew he didn't mean it and was simply trying to hide his pain from her.

"John thought it was just a drill. Overblown." She sighed. "Now look where we are. Some drill. But we will get off this planet. We have to."

"And then what? Meet back up with the Resolute and head on your merry way to Alpha Centauri?"

"You say that as if it is a bad thing. There is no going back to Earth. We have cut our ties with that dying planet." She took a breath of recycled air. "Blue skies. Clean water. Unpolluted air. How can Alpha Centauri be so bad with all of that going for it?" she demanded of the mechanic.

"It's great. Now. The best and the brightest. No rogues. But how long will it stay that way? We had the best and brightest on Earth too and look what they did to the planet," Don sarcastically reminded her.

"We have learned from our mistakes. We won't repeat them on AC."

His snort said it all. "Please. You have pricks like Victor running the show."

"I didn't vote for him."

"Yeah? And how did that work out? He still won and is your leader. You may be the big kahuna right now, here on this planet because of the situation. But once you get to AC, Victor's the main guy, again."

"It's a big planet," she countered his negativism.

"Yeah. And so was Earth. But that didn't stop the inevitable," Don reminded her.

They rode for a while in silence that neither one of them minded this time. They had been driving for about three hours when, by mutual agreement, they stopped for a break. Maureen halted the Chariot near the edge of a ridgeline where they could look out on the landscape. It was not too pitched, nothing the vehicle couldn't handle when they started up once more.

Don finished up then stood under the open wing of the ATV waiting for Maureen to return. The woods, which offered privacy, were a couple yards away. She had gone there. He had ducked behind the rear wheel. Of course, he did have the plumbing advantage.

After finishing her business, Maureen began to walk purposely towards the vehicle, anxious to get underway again. She glanced at her compad and guessed they had another six or so hours of daylight, not that night would stop her. Her plans were to push onward until they reached the Resolute, load up and be on the way home ASAP. On the way back, they could take turns between driving and napping. She didn't like being away at such a volatile time and she didn't know how much time they really had left on this soon to be fried world.

She exited the edge of the woods seeing Don waiting for her by the ATV. When he saw her approaching, he climbed into his seat and began to reach for the harness. Suddenly, without warning, an explosion ripped through the air, knocking Maureen, hard, on her ass. As she struggled to catch her breath, she saw the Chariot flip over sideways and then roll over the edge of the embankment. Don was nowhere to be seen.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Don hadn't gotten the harness fully fastened before the explosion went off under the Chariot. The vehicle started its first rotation, which slammed his body against the driver's door, which unlike the passenger's door, was still closed. It wasn't pleasant and, in that split second, he wondered if it would have been better had the door been open and he'd been flung out.

As the ATV continued it slow, side over side somersault, his body started tumbling again. The com-mike swung back and forth on its springy cord, slamming into his left eye. That's gonna leave a bruise, he thought, as he desperately made a grab for the restraints to try to stop his tumbling routine. He managed to brace his body between the two front seats before the ATV completed its next rotation; each successive one getting quicker as it progressed down the incline. He winced when the first boulder slammed into the vehicle's window, before recalling that they were designed to take brutal punishments and remain intact.

That victory was fleeting because the cargo net behind him tore loose in one corner sending objects hurtling at his exposed back. Don had no idea what was hitting him, though he knew one of the items was sharp. It tore through his shirt, into his back, and warm blood began seeping from the wound. Too late now to wish he'd left his tough, fire retardant, orange jacket on when they had stopped.

Dark spots were already swirling on the periphery of his vision as the C-8 continued its descent, pulverizing his poor body and brain. For some reason, Judy's comment about the escape hatch not being a sunroof drifted through his mind. If this ATV ever stopped its' freefall maybe he'd get to try out the escape hatch, well if he was still alive.

Something slammed into his forearm, nearly ripping loose his death grip on the harness strap. He yelled a curse word that, had she been here, would have gotten him a vocabulary warning from the family-friendly Mrs. Robinson. Don was relieved she wasn't here because he was pretty sure this would not be an event that John would think appropriate for his wife to participate in. The mechanic was sure if Mrs. Robinson were here and got injured, it would be blamed on him, though he was damned to understand what caused this event.

The part of his mind still operating noted the C-8 had stopped rolling. He was about to interpret this as a victory when he heard a loud, groaning crack. Lifting his head slightly, which he had ducked to protect it from projectiles, he saw the front of the ATV was wedged, nose first, against a tree trunk, which had momentarily halted its forward progress. Like in a horror movie, when you know you should advert your eyes from the screen because disaster is about to strike, but you don't, he lay there, eyes glued to the front windshield. He watched as the tree, which was nowhere near sturdy enough to hold the weight of the ATV, slowly bend and start to break.

A crisp snapping sound filled the cabin as the tree trunk finally gave way and the over-balanced C-8 flipped over its nose to land with a resounding crash on its' roof. Don, whose hold was designed for side to side rolling, not head over heels, found himself airborne. He had no clue what he smashed into, ironically, it was probably the closed escape hatch and the safety cage built around the cockpit. All's he did know is his body had had enough and he passed out.

Even without his chicken, West's luck held, partially. The ATV ceased its gyrations, sliding the last few feet down the incline on its roof. It came to a rather dignified stop on the flat grassy plain. Don's limp body collapsed across the safety bars built into the roof.

With a grunt, Maureen rose to her feet to watch the descent of their only means of transportation as it tumbled down the slope. Somewhat uncharitably, she wondered what the heck West had done to cause the mishap even though she had heard an explosion. It was over in a few breaths, though it felt like an eternity as she watched the C-8 gyrate down the slope. The final flip which rested the ATV on its roof, sent up a cloud of dust into the air. The vehicle rocked a little, since its roof wasn't totally flat due to the cargo cage, but it was clear it was not going anywhere.

Still catching her breath, she waited to see if Don would emerge from the C-8. The passenger door had been ripped off along the way since it had been opened. If Don was inside and if he was alive and if he was conscious and if he was not too injured, he should be able to easily get out of the ATV. Considering what transpired, she knew that was a lot of 'ifs', even for a man who claimed to be lucky.

Standing here wasn't accomplishing anything towards getting them out of this crisis, so she walked over to the top of the slope and plotted a course that would take her to the upside-down C-8. Her chosen path wasn't too tough to navigate and it took her past the ripped off passenger door which lay flat on the earth. Other than the fact it wasn't attached to the vehicle, it looked in fairly good condition.

Three-quarters of the way to her target, she spotted a few more pieces of jettison from the Chariot and made a note of where they were in case, they needed the items. When she got to the topsy-turvy vehicle, she walked around to the passenger door to peer inside. The com-mike was out of its' holster and laying on the ceiling of the C-8. It really didn't make that much difference considering she had passed the ripped off antenna near the top of the slope. Reestablishing communications, if possible, was going to take some work.

Her eyes settled on the still body of the mechanic, who was sprawled across the roof. He had to be unconscious, or dead, because she could not imagine any other way to tolerate being in that position. His face, resting on its' side was streaked with red as was the back of his shirt.

Steadying her nerves, she moved over to the open-side of the C-8 and studied it for a few seconds. It might rock a little, but there was no danger of it moving further. The cargo inside had shifted, due to the unfastening of the corner of the net, but it seemed pretty will settled at this point. She could see no immediate menace to climbing into the vehicle.

She scrambled over the four-foot lip, then cautiously placed her feet on the inside of the C-8 trying not to step on anything vital. She was pretty sure the design engineers had never considered this scenario. Luckily, there wasn't a lot of equipment secured to the roof, mostly it was just the rollbars, which worked as designed because the cockpit of the vehicle had not been crushed.

Reaching out with two tentative fingers, she checked for a pulse in Don's neck. She was no doctor, but all the colonist had to take basic medical training. To her, his pulse felt steady and strong. She decided he couldn't be too injured, based on that and the fact he was already starting to revive. She sat back on her haunches and watched his eye lids flutter a few times before staying open.

With his face mushed into the ATV's rooftop, his visibility was somewhat limited. He could see what appeared to be a leg nearby. Taking a not too wild guess, he said, "Mrs. Robinson?"

"Yes. It's me. Are you badly hurt?"

Don didn't really know how to respond to that query. If she asked him where he hurt, he could easily respond, everywhere. But to determine how badly he was hurt, he'd have to do something he dreaded, move. He swallowed, tasting coppery blood. Great. Off to a good start, he thought sarcastically.

"Well, if you can move, I think you should try getting out of this vehicle," she said in her no-nonsense manner.

"What happened to don't move a person with possible spinal injuries? That's like basic medicine 101. Even I know that."

"Do you have a spinal injury?" she inquired; her head slightly tilted to the left as she studied him.

"I dunno."

"And neither do I. So, I guess we'll just have to assume you don't until provided with data that suggests otherwise " she said rather factually.

"I'm not a science experiment, lady. And what is this we stuff? It's the me of that we I'm concerned about," he griped as he slowly began to flex his feet as a trial.

"I can't possibly get you out of this vehicle on my own. Well, unless I grabbed you by the arms, tugged hard, really hard and hoped you slide. But in my estimation, it is highly unlikely that will be successful."

"Not to mention how painful that will be for me, which I'm sure you considered in your analysis," he muttered sarcastically as he continued to flex more of his body parts.

While Don was slowly attempting to move, Maureen backed away a little to look at the ATV's front console. To her, it looked like it was in fairly good shape. Looking back at Don, she saw he had propped himself up against the backside of the front seats. His head was bowed deeply.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying not to decorate the inside of this nice vehicle with my breakfast."

In her detached, clinical manner she said, "You probably have a concussion."

"Ya think," he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

"I do. I did take basic medical 101 you know. Got an A plus."

Slowly, the nausea began to subside. "Of course, you did. Hey, wait. Was that a joke, Mrs. Robinson?"

She glanced at his face, which was now raised, and gave him a slight smile.

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, which apparently wasn't a good idea because it made him wince.

Their moment didn't last long.

"Seriously, could you move a little faster?" she demanded, all business once more.

"You got some place specific to be tonight? Party? Hot date with the hubby?" he quipped as he began trying to crawl across the roof towards the open door.

Every movement was more painful than the last, but he kept persevering. Inch by inch he made his way across the rollbars until his legs eventually dangled out the opening. He looked down and it seemed like the ground was 100 yards away. Maureen nimbly navigated to the ground, then stood, looking expectantly at him.

"Catch me?" he asked wistfully.

"Maybe I could help brace you on the way down," she said rather doubtfully.

"Yeah, no, probably not a good idea. I'd get blood on your clothes."

"Do you think the rear hatch will open with this thing upside down?" she asked the mechanic.

Though he could barely see straight and her question seemed somewhat off topic, Don tried to ponder it. "If the hydraulics were not damaged and the cargo rack is giving some clearance, it might partially open. Enough to get inside if that is what you are thinking."

"I am," she said cryptically

She climbed in the front of the upside-down ATV and scanned the control panel. It took a moment to orientate her brain to the upturned image of what she was trained on. But finally, she spotted the toggle she was looking for and flipped it. At first, nothing happened.

"Does the engine need to be running for the hatch to open?" she called out.

"No. It works off the batteries. As long as they are charged it will open. It also has a manual hand crank." He paused a second to catch his breath before adding, "Give it a second to recover. Like me, it took a hell of a beating."

After waiting a minute, she tried the switch again and was rewarded with some mechanical whirring noise as a crack of light made its way inside the vehicle. Jumping out of the C-8, she hurried to the back to watch the liftgate slowly open. It eventually reached a spot, not fully open, where it stopped. But it was pretty far up and she managed to climb into the back where she began to root around.

Don sat on the edge of the vehicle looking at the ground below. It seriously couldn't be more than four feet to the dirt, yet he felt like he was asking his body to jump off a skyscraper.

"Hey, there wouldn't happen to be a ladder back there?" he called out longingly to Maureen.

"No, but I found this." She walked around the side of the C-8 and held up a folded tarp.

He gave her a quizzical look. "And how is that gonna help?"

She didn't answer right away, but instead unfolded the tarp and spread it out on the ground. "You'll land on it when you jump out."

"And then what? You will wrap me up an bury me in it?" he jested.

She paused for a second as if she hadn't thought of that particular use for the tarp. With a slight head shake she explained. "You are too heavy for me to carry, so I can drag you away from the C-8 after you jump out of it and pass out."

His eyes flickered between the tarp and Maureen. "A. You don't know that I will pass out when I jump out of this vehicle…"

"Trust me. You will," she injected in that cool 'I'm right tone' she had so perfected.

"... and B, dragging me across the ground on that tarp doesn't sound very pleasant."

"Yes, I know it will probably be a bit of a strain for me, but the slickness of the material should help."

His eyebrows shot up his forehead making him wince once more from the cut on his temple. "I meant it would be uncomfortable for me to be dragged over the rocky ground like a sack of potatoes."

"Would you rather chance sitting there and blowing up in the Chariot?"

"Blowing up? Why would this thing explode? It's not going to explode. I'm a mechanic. I know these things."

She gave him one of her skeptical looks. "Oh. Then what made it rollover in the first place?"

"An explos…." He stopped having walked right into her trap. "You know, lady, it's not nice playing mind games with a concussed man. We already know you and your whole family are smarter than me. At least book smarter. You don't have to deliberately rub salt in the wound."

She actually had the decency to look a little apologetic. "I am simply saying for some reason, there was an explosion. We can't rule out that it won't happen again. Until we can determine what caused the first one, I think it would be prudent not to be sitting in the Chariot."

"Point well taken," Don agreed, as he took one last look downward before forcing his body over the edge. "Here goes nothing," he muttered as he slid towards the tarp.

As expected, when his legs hit the ground, they immediately not only buckled, but sent waves of blinding pain coursing through his body. Rather uselessly, he tried to break his fall with his arms, one which also buckled under his weight. He fell over, mostly on his side, on the tarp and as predicted blacked out.

Maureen walked over, gripped one of the straps sewn into the tarp and with a grunt, began dragging it over the ground towards the spot she had already picked out for their temporary camp. She tried not to drag him over too many bumps, but it wasn't easy. For once, the man was right. It probably was a pretty uncomfortable way to travel. Well, if he thought this was uncomfortable, he'd probably really be unhappy about what she was about to do next.

Maureen wasn't a callous person, but she was very practical, which tended to make her seem cold and aloof to those that didn't truly understand her. She was cautious, with her feelings and her emotions, reserving them mainly for her family and a few close friends.

The injured man lying on the ground was neither her friend or her family, but that didn't mean she wouldn't do what she could to help him. And right now, after the misadventure he had just suffered, that meant examining him and rendering any medical aid that was within her power. However, she had a funny feeling, when he woke, which hopefully was not while she was patching him up, he might see the necessity of what she did a little differently.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Maureen catalogued her handy work. The cut on the temple over the left eye had been secured using two butterfly bandages. The skin around the left eye itself was blossoming with bruising; nothing she could do there other than let nature take its course. The same with the other locations on his body where he had hit, or been hit, by objects. The bruising would heal on its own, eventually, but moving wasn't going to be pleasant for a few days. Of the injuries she could physically examine, the gash on his right thigh was the most concerning. If she were to guess she'd surmise that on one of the rotations Don's thigh had been impaled by a pointy object then ripped free. The gash was nearly four inches long with ragged edges. But what was of greater concern was the depth and the fact she believed it lightly nicked the femoral artery. There wasn't a lot of blood, but enough to make her cautious. She packed the wound with the compound they had been taught, which would seal the puncture much like a flat tire.

Maureen was sure Don had a concussion, but like the bruises there was nothing she could do about that injury either. The portable scanner indicated that his right forearm had sustained some muscle tears which might affect his usage of his right hand. None of his ribs, miraculously, were broken, nor his skull, nor any bone in the mechanic's body. The scanner also showed that all his internal organs were intact and unharmed.

She went about caring for the unconscious mechanic with clinical detachment. The sight of blood did not faze her, she was not squeamish. Stripping him down to his almost birthday suit to treat his wounds did not embarrass her either, it was all part of the job. Besides, as she examined him, she could see she wasn't the first person to patch him up. His body bore witness to a few scars, some more interesting than others. This young man had been in a few scrapes in his life, and somehow that didn't really surprise her.

Maureen rolled him onto his stomach to tend to the wound on his back by the shoulder blade. It was a deep one and would definitely add to his collection of scars. She set the suture machine over the laceration, turning it on and letting it go to work.

As she knelt next to him waiting for the tool to finish, her eyes were drawn to marks on his broad back. She adjusted one of the lights in the tent to take a closer look at the faint lines. They were scars and they were old, very old. If she were to hazard a guess, she'd say they stemmed from his childhood. The marks on his back reminded her of her history of religion class and the pictures depicting the flogging of Christ.

The machine beeped to indicate it was done interrupting her contemplation. She removed it, then stored it away. Satisfied she had done all she could, she carefully rolled him over on his back once more before pulling a thermal blanket over his healing body. She wasn't begrudging the time it had taken to treat his wounds, well except when she saw it was nearly dusk. It was now too late to do anything else before dark, other than deploy the portable perimeter shield.

Before she began patching up the mechanic, she had retrieved the camping gear from the C-8 and set up the tent figuring it was a more sterile environment in which to treat her patient. She had also located the other items that they would need for the night; food, water, lights, and their personal packs. Though she had found the perimeter shield, she had not installed it since it took at least an hour. She figured the priority was tent, bleeding man, perimeter.

She rose, figuring she had done all she could for the injured man other than administer pain medication, which she was hesitant to do not knowing anything about possible allergies. Most drugs, especially ones for general use, were pretty benign. Still it would be safer to wait until he awoke and could confirm.

Moving outside of the tent, she studied the fading alien sky and tried to calculate in her head how long the darkness would last. Based on her most recent reckonings, she estimated 10 hours of darkness. Looking at the pile of perimeter posts to install, she sighed. Safety first. She really wanted to work on trying to restore communications and then seeing if the C-8 could be made operational. Don bragged he was the best mechanic in the fleet, well here was his chance to prove it. After one last longing gaze up the incline where she knew the ATV's antenna could be found, snapped off, and lying in the dirt, she picked up the first pole of the perimeter alarm and positioned it. These weren't as hard to install as the main system used to protect the Jupiter, still it took time and effort.

The setup didn't require her to use her brain at all; it was so simple a child could do it. So, she turned her mind to other matters. Judy, for example. She had the feeling her eldest daughter had wanted to tell her something after she returned from the disastrous fuel trip, but there simply hadn't been time before this trip. She also would have liked to be able to be there more for her daughter, who she knew was upset by the death of Evan. But since the invasion of the Resolute, it had been one crisis after another with no time to catch your breath, to grieve, reflect, or heal. Simply shove your feelings aside, stuff them in a box and move onto the next calamity.

It dawned on her that Don had been on that trip with Judy. She wondered if he knew anything and she made a mental note to ask him. She turned her mind to the issue of this planet's wobbly orbit and that occupied her as she set up the rest of the perimeter. Less than 45 minutes later, she had completed the circuit, switched on the controller, and watched as the glowing poles indicated they were protected. They hadn't had time to learn all the predators on this alien world, so the 'fence' was a reasonable precaution.

Inside the tent, Don was fighting his way back to consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, then closed, then opened again as he tried to focus on his surroundings. His muddled brain waded through the images it was being sent. He wasn't outside for there was no sky, but it wasn't a building because the ceiling seemed to billow. Finally, his military stint kicked in and he figured out he was in a tent.

About that time, his pain receptors came back online and they were screaming at him from every inch of his body. Terror began to set in as the vulnerability of his situation began to dawn and he started to struggle to sit up. As the tried to prop himself up, the thermal blanket slid down his chest and he realized he was nearly naked. Lifting the corner of the blanket higher, he gazed underneath to see just how naked. Simultaneously, the tent flap opened and something entered the structure.

His brain wasn't fully operational yet and he was having a hard time processing everything, so he began to panic. Ignoring his body, which was begging him to be still, he clawed his way upwards until he was sitting, all the while clutching the blanket like a life line. Sweat broke out on his body and his breath came in harsh gasps. His eyes desperately searched around him for a weapon of some sort for defense. How did he get in this situation? Hadn't he been beaten enough in life? Did the universe hate him that much?

"Don! It's me, Maureen" she called out when she realized he hadn't comprehended who she was yet. As she moved closer, it dawned on her he had never called her by her first name, so she awkwardly added, "Mrs. Robinson."

Robinson. Robinson. Robinson his flustered mind chanted. I know that name. The lady. On the planet. Where we all crashed landed. Who called me a smuggler.

Maureen moved closer to Don figuring it might be reassuring. She reached out her hand to place it gently on his shoulder to calm him, but it had the opposite effect. Don yelped when she touched him, dislodged her hand, and scrambled backwards so quickly, he banged into the side of the tent. The structure shook, but held under the onslaught.

They sat there for a moment, frozen in time. Don was shaking, sweating and panting as he huddled against the tent wall. Maureen was staring at him trying to figure out what was going on. Sensing her nearness was more detrimental then helpful, she moved across the small enclosure and sat on the second bedroll near the opposite wall. That appeared to be the right move as the mechanic's breathing slowed and his eyes became more focused. Still clutching the blanket, he moved away from the wall back to his own bedroll. With a grunt, he tried to maneuver into a position where he could remain upright. Reaching out a hand, he dragged a nearby cargo container over, threw his pillow against and gingerly leaned some of his weight on it, being sure to keep the wound on this back above the prop.

"Comfortable?" she asked, not quite knowing what else to say.

"Not really," he muttered shifting around trying to find a position that didn't aggravate his injuries. There was none, he swiftly decided.

Grabbing the medical kit which was near her feet, she opened the lid and rooted inside. "There are a number of choices for pain, but I wasn't sure if you were allergic to anything, so I waited."

"Thanks," he replied with a strange inflection in his voice she couldn't place.

She waited for him to say more, but radio silence settled over the tent.

"So?" she prompted.

He stared at her stupidly.

"Do you have any allergies?"

"Allergies?"

"To any pain medications. The recommended one is," she looked at the label on the injector, "Hydrortien."

"No."

She didn't listen to his answer as she got up and closed the distance between them, getting ready to inject the pain med.

He stared at her as if she were crazy. "What are you doing!"

Halting, she looked down at him, thoroughly confused. "I thought you said you were not allergic to Hydrortien?"

"I'm not," he replied, hesitantly.

"So, I'm going to give you the shot. I can see you're in pain. What am I missing?" she asked as she took a step backwards. "You can't be afraid of a shot.

In actuality, he was, but not for the reasons she was implying. Not wanting to answer, Don fiddled with the blanket, trying to ignore her. He knew it wasn't going to work, but he did it anyway and he was surprised when she backed off.

Maureen walked back to the medical kit, placed the syringe inside, turned, sat on her mat and watched Don. For once, the man who always had something to say was mute.

"Our medical database has records for all colonist, but not, ah, staff" she noted, awkwardly. She fully expected some snark remark about the Jupiter families or AC, because he never missed a chance to gripe on those subjects. But he only nodded his head.

Not knowing what else to do, it was obvious he didn't want the shot, she closed the medkit, pushed it aside and grabbed the container holding their food supply. "I set up the perimeter alarm. We should be safe from any predators tonight. I also saw the antenna for the C-8 as I came down the slope. It was ripped off. At first light I'll retrieve it. See if I can get the comms up somehow."

She took a few items out of the food case before glancing over at Don once more. He had resettled himself as best as he could, was still clutching the blanket, and even from here she could see the lines of pain etched in his face. She decided to try again.

"Why don't you take the pain injection? It will help. Trust me. I was very grateful for it when I broke my leg." She opened a water container and poured two cups. "Are you afraid I'll think less of you because you used something to ease the pain?"

That did get a comment out of him. "I don't care what you think of me," he shot back, which was a lie he was coming to realize the more time he spent in her company. "Besides, you already think I'm nothing more than a stupid smuggler."

Without thinking, she held out the cup of water to him and instinctively, he reached for it with his nearest hand, which happened to be the right. As he stretched out his arm, the muscles in his forearm felt like they were going to pop through his skin and the wound on his back felt like it ripped open. His fingers closed on the glass then immediately opened, dropping the vessel and its contents on the floor. Tears escaped his eyes as he bowed his head and tried to breathe through the pain. "Sorry. That kit have aspirins?" he grunted between breaths.

Retrieving the now empty glass, she refilled it before digging around the medkit again. Finding a bottle of extra-strength aspirin, she dumped three in her palm, then brought them and the water back to the mechanic. This time she made sure he could use his left hand for the container and she watched as he successfully downed the pills with the water. Retrieving the empty glass from him, she refilled it, left it within reach then went back to her mat.

"You hungry?"

He carefully shook his head no.

"You should eat something to stop those tablets from eating through the lining of your stomach," she suggested, mildly.

Eyes closed and propped up against the container once more, his reply made him seem more like his normal self. "No worries. Don West has a stomach made of steel. Helps when you don't know what your next meal will be."

She activated the heat mechanism in the MRE she had selected and waited while it warmed up. "I thought freelance mechanics like yourself made good money."

He had been thinking about his childhood, but he answered closer to his present situation. "Well ya know, I don't really have a Jupiter on this planet to call home since mine fell over the face of a cliff."

"That wasn't yours to start with."

"Technicality. So, anyways, I have to beg for food and a place to stay each night. Not the most fun I've ever had."

Maureen looked over at him. "I didn't think of that. I suppose you can stay with us, on the Jupiter 2, until we get back to the Resolute. There is a half-filled cargo room you could bunk in."

She watched as his eyes opened wide, in surprise, at the offer.

"You stuck up for Judy. Helped her out when no one else would with Evan," she declared feel as if she had to rationalize why she said he could stay with them.

"She was doing what she thought was right. It's unfortunate, how it turned out." He fiddled with the blanket again before tentatively asking, "Did you, ah, take my clothes?"

Her meal was ready and she didn't answer him until she had ripped open the pack and used a spork to take a bite. "Don't flatter yourself, West. There was no other way to treat your injuries." It was interesting to see, even given his skin tone, she could see him blush.

"Hey no. I mean I get it. I was just wondering what you did with them," he mumbled awkwardly staring at the blanket over him.

Answering around mouthfuls of stew, she said. "They were covered with blood. I stripped them off you and tossed them away."

Dread flashed across his face. "Ah, how far…away."

She shrugged not really caring. "Just put on clean clothes from your pack. The one with the clean underwear, remember."

"Yeah, about that. I don't have any."

"Clean underwear?"

"Extra clothes," he said succinctly.

Frowning, she let her spork drop back into the bag of stew she was eating. "Your shirt was ripped, covered in your blood. The pants were in somewhat better shape, tougher material, though they still had the hole in the thigh from the impalement. The artery was nicked. I patched it."

Don glanced at his covered leg. That explained why his leg felt like it was on fire. Impaled. Wonderful. "Don't suppose there is a stream nearby."

Had she been standing, he swore she would have put her fist on her hips as she scolded him. "Why in the world don't you have any other clothes! You're a grown man. You know how to pack a bag for a trip…" As the words came out of her mouth, her eyes grew round.

"You mean the one I wasn't supposed to be on," he mockingly reminded her.

Picking up her spork, she poked around in the MRE bag before setting it aside, unfinished. She was no longer hungry. When had she become so hard she asked herself? When your family's lives are at stake, she decided.

"You, Jupiter families, have your lives packed on your ships, which, incidentally, came with you to this planet. Me, my life is in a locker up on the Resolute." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Hopefully, it is still there and didn't get torn off by the aliens. I came to this planet, literally, with the clothes on my back." Don closed his eyes and sighed. "Once again, I'm where I don't belong and am not wanted," he whispered softly under his breath.

Maureen didn't quite hear what he said but got the gist. "Be right back."

Grabbing a light, she disappeared from the tent. Trying to stay awake was exhausting, so Don gave in and drifted off to sleep. At least when he was asleep, it didn't hurt so much.

About an hour later, Maureen came back into the tent and found Don asleep. She quietly placed his clean, mended, folded clothes near him. She wasn't sure how many guys knew that the C-8 had, if you will, washing bags where you could place a few items in and through the miracle of modern science, they'd come out clean. She'd run his pants, shirt and socks through the bag and after, used a patch kit to close up the hole on the thigh of the pants. His t-shirt, on the other hand, was too far gone for repair. She'd also found his jacket in the C-8 and she dropped that on the pile too.

Exhausted herself, she turned off all the lamps, dropped onto her bedroll and fell asleep. She woke a few times during the night, to survey the camp and her patient. At one point he grew very restless. Moving over to check on him she could feel the heat rising from his fevered body. She injected him with a broad-spectrum antibiotic, woke him up enough to get him to down some more aspirin and a couple of cups of water before letting him drift off again. Once he was settled, she crawled on her on mat and was instantly asleep once more. They had a lot to do tomorrow and they both needed their rest.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

He had been pleased and touched by the clean clothes next to his bedroll when he woke in the morning. A simple act of kindness. Rarely had he seen that in his life. The fact that there were bags to clean clothes was news to him too. Go figure. It was a piece of information he stored away for future use…well if there was a future. Right now, it was looking grim.

They had woken to howling winds and a shaking tent. One of those black, dust storms with the deadly sharp particles had engulfed them. To go outside was a death-sentence, where one would either choke on the dust or be shredded by the razor-sharp objects, which were akin to diamonds. Their tent was designed to withstand the storm and could actually be pressurized in the event of an unbreathable atmosphere.

Maureen was like a trapped animal in the tent. Even when she was sitting still, she gave the illusion of a pacing tiger. He got it. She was worried about her family. His attempts to distract her fell flat and it was also a struggle for him to simple stay awake. The fever had left him, but had also drained him. The aspirin was taking the edge off his pain but, not that he'd admit it, it was beating up his stomach. He had pounced on the package of applesauce she had offered him at lunch time, but had turned down the curried vegan dish. As he slurped down the applesauce it amazed him at what ended up in MREs.

The storm showed no signs of abating and during the late afternoon, Maureen suddenly decided to start grilling her new bunkmate.

"Maybe you should tell me a little more about yourself since you will be residing with my family," she started out as if she were interviewing a perspective tenant.

Don, who was half-asleep, pushed himself more upright, yawned, but didn't stretch for that would have hurt, then looked at her expectantly. "Don West. Open book. What do you want to know?"

"Where were you born?"

"Earth."

"Specifically?"

"South, or maybe North America," he replied with a touch of uncertainty.

She gave him an exasperated look as if he was being deliberately obtuse. "How could you not know where you were born."

"I was kind of young then."

"But you have a birth record."

"True, I do. Hard to get anywhere in life without one," he said reasonably.

"And what does it say," she asked slowly giving each word a tick of annoyance.

"It says, Buenos Aires, Argentina."

She could tell by the tone of his voice there was still more to this tale. She was beginning to think this conversation was a bad idea. She had hidden copies, of portions, of the Resolute's data banks on her computer. Maybe she'd just search them for data about him instead to see who she'd invited to live with them on the Jupiter. Still, she had nothing better to do right now, so she persevered onward.

"But…" she prompted.

Giving an indifferent shrug he said, "But, since I made it up myself, it's probably not accurate."

"Your birth record is illegal? Even orphans have certs."

"True. If you are an orphan whose parents gave you up for adoption." Bobbing his head a little he added, "Mine, they did it differently. One day when I was around five, they put me on a train and told me I was going to visit my grandfather, but there wasn't enough money for us all to go. So, they snuck me on a train and sat me next to an older couple. Told me if anyone asked, they were my grandparents. For the next twelve hours I rode on that train, next to those people who I didn't even know. Then it stops, and everyone gets off including me. My parents told me I would recognize by grandfather by the red fedora he would be wearing. For days, I hung out in the train station looking for an old man in a red hat. Know what? Surprise! He never showed up."

"You were abandoned in a train station at five years old?"

His shrug said so?

"And how exactly does a five-year-old survive on their own?" she demanded.

"Not very well. I was picked up by the cops and turned over to child services."

"So, you did grow up in an orphanage."

"No. Not really. I spent some time in group homes. A few private ones too. A lot on the streets."

"School?"

He reached for the glass of water to wet his throat. "Mostly online. And the school of hard knocks. Watch one, do one, steal one. Hey," he said when she narrowed her eyes at him. "Joking. But there are a lot of people out there that will teach you their trade, off the books, as long as they can profit from you. And once you got it, you leave."

"How much of that is true?" she asked, skeptically.

"Enough to confirm in your mind that I'm nothing like you or your family. And how about you? Brothers? Sisters? Child protégée I suppose."

"I was an only child, raised on a farm."

"With like cows and chickens and ole McDonald?"

She gave him a wry look. "It was not a children's nursery rhyme. We grew mostly through the use of hydroponics. Self-contained ecosphere from the top to the bottom. Clean. Renewable. Sustainable. My parents were bio-farmers, well-known in the field and the pioneers of many protocols."

"Eggheads on a farm. Imagine that. Bet you didn't hurt for money either," he said perceptively. "Private schools, tutors, camps. The works."

"We were comfortable."

"An isolated? Did Mommy and Daddy make sure life was squeaky clean? And yet, you became a rocket scientist, you have a daughter who is not an original Robinson and you didn't marry an egghead, but a Marine. I'd hazard a guess you were a good-girl gone bad when you left the farm. Later you repent to become the upright citizen you are today…though I think some of the bad girl still lurks within."

She glanced over at him with annoyance for his ability to peg her rather well.

Sensing her discomfort, Don backed off. "Seems like we both have some demons in our past that still need exorcising."

She gave him a half-smile at his peace-offering attempt. "Judy told me you wanted to be paid to show Victor where the fuel was located."

"It's not exactly a secret. Anymore. Nor the fact I won't be getting paid now."

She gave him one of those Robinson looks that made you want to go to church and confess. But he'd been getting those looks his whole life. This one little lady wasn't going to change his way of survival.

"It's who I am. What I am. The only thing Don West ever got in life was… nothing. If I don't look out for myself, no one else will. You know what trust has gotten me? Doing the right thing? Broken, battered and bruised." He folded his arms across his chest and stared downward. "I might be stupid, but not stupid enough to do the same thing over and over. That's insane."

"It's the definition of insanity," she corrected. "Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result."

"Yeah, well, whatever."

"Was it the right thing? What you did for Judy?" she asked curious to know how he had seen the situation without Judy's rose-colored glasses. "You essentially gave up the money at that point. To help her."

Carefully, he scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. "I dunna know. Your daughter, she can be persuasive. Seems to know how to push my buttons."

A half-smile blossomed on Judy's face. "She can, be persuasive. Like her father. She has a strong sense of what is right and wrong, at least to her. And she has the ability to drag others into her visions. Again, like her late father." She leaned back and stared with unfocused eyes at the undulating tent ceiling. "I met Ty in one of my liberal arts classes. 'Protesting. A Lost Art Form.'"

"Odd choice for a sheltered farm girl," he noted, as he raised his head to glance over at her.

"It was the only one that fit in my schedule."

"So, sheltered farm girl gets swept off her feet by activist. A love child is born. But the activist Daddy can't be held down so he takes off after the next whale to be saved."

She gave him a small, but not unkind head shake. "I was swept off my feet, but so was he. We loved each other. Not a passing fancy. My parents approved of him and we were married, in my home town where Judy was conceived."

"But…"

"Life, Don, as you well know… it doesn't always go as expected. During the first year of my doctoral program, there was an accident on my parents' farm. They both died."

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly.

"And so was I. Family is everything to me. If it weren't for Ty and Judy, I don't know how I would have made it through that period. But I had to hold it together, for my family. A few years later, Ty died of a rare illness. I always thought that was one of the reason's Judy went into medicine. A strange attempt to bring back a father she really never knew. I focused on Judy and my studies. One day I met a handsome marine and one thing led to another. John and I got married, he adopted Judy, we had two children of our own…"

"…and lived happily ever after," Don interjected. "But we all know that fairytale didn't exactly come true."

She paused for a moment lost in thought. "No, but I hope we're not at the end yet. John and I had a rough go, but we are reconnecting, on a new level."

"Mrs. Robinson, your husband loves you and your children more than life. A fact, he told me in a motivational speech that ended along the lines if I let any harm come to you, I'm a dead man."

"That sounds like John," she said rather dreamily, which caused Don to snort.

"You are definitely a rocket scientist with your head in the clouds. Life ain't wishes, rainbows and unicorns."

"Unicorns once existed, sort of. A species of goat that had one horn. Extinct now."

Don burst out laughing. "Is that supposed to be comforting? Make me feel better somehow?"

She joined him in his laughter. "I don't know. It just popped into my mind."

The laughter brought on a small coughing fit for Don, which in turn made every muscle in his body ache. He doubled over and groaned. She brought him over a glass of water and helped support him while he drank it. Her hand rested on the back of his good shoulder as her eyes wandered down his back again. He'd put his pants on, but elected to remain topless in deference to the stuffy environment. She saw the faint scars on his back again, the ones she had noted when she had first fixed him up.

Lightly, she traced a finger down one of the scars, causing him to shudder and jerk away from her.

"I'm sorry," she said as she removed her hands from his back, got up and moved over to her mat. "I was just curious. About them."

Don sat angled away from her so she couldn't see his face. However, she could tell by the trembling of his torso, she'd hit upon something very sensitive and personal to him.

"It's none of my business," she offered up as a graceful way out for him.

"I…" Don stopped and cleared his throat. "There faded. I'm dark-skinned. Most people never see them."

"I bet most people don't repair a four-inch gash on your back while you're in your underwear either," she said trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"True. It is not a situation I find myself in…often. And the few people who have patched me up, well they aren't the type that care about things like old scars."

"Do they wear eye patches and live in dark hovels?" she jested. "These people who patch you up?"

"A few. And they break your legs for non-payment," he answered, chuckling. Then his voice dropped an octave and he was very serious once more. "The story of how I grew up, it's mostly true. My parents ditched me. No clue why or what I did to them, to deserve being abandoned. I spent some time in a group home, then I was placed with a foster family. Maybe I was seven?"

Don drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, ignoring the pain and pressure the position was putting on his thigh and shoulder wounds. "They were a spare the rod, spoil the child kind of couple. Trust me, they never spared the rod, only it was a whip."

Damn it, she had opened a box that he had kept well-hidden for most of his life. No one, not even his few lovers, had ever noticed his scars since he was an adult. The memories he had long ago locked away washed over him, flooding his soul with their poison. He'd been whipped for everything. Finishing his food (glutton). Not finishing his food (wasteful). Mud on his shoes (slovenly). Not getting an A (laziness). They had him convinced he could do no right and he came to believe he deserved to be whipped because he was that bad. He was told not to speak of his shame to anyone at school or the foster care system. He was told he should be grateful they were willing to take on the Herculean task of teaching him the right way to live. And he had come to believe it at the impressionable age of seven. He tried to walk the path of righteousness, but he couldn't seem to follow it and he was never sure what really was on it. Sometimes a few days would pass, or even a week or two free from correction. But then he'd stumble, or there would be a new rule he didn't know about, and his step-father would bring the whip out. Crying simply brought on lectures on being a man and a few more strokes. The same with pleading or trying to explain. In time, he learned to stifle his cries, stand there and except it corrections.

Had it not been for the freak moment when his shirt hitched up and a teacher at school saw the tail end of one of the marks, who knows how things would have ended up. Him dead, probably. But the abuse did come to light and he was removed from that house and placed back in group care, where there were no secrets and he became the brunt of everyone's jokes. After a few miserable years, he learned about living in the streets from a new kid who arrived. The kid had no intention of being stuck in a group home and when he escaped one night, Don went with him. The kid showed him the basics of living on the street and Don adapted easily. It had been a pleasant few years, relatively speaking, until the kid started running with a gang, and was killed in a shoot-out with a rival gang. He'd lit out on his own after that, staying away from the gangs and their violence.

Before his mind could wander down the path of remembrance any further, Don slammed the door shut. This stroll down memory lane wasn't doing anyone any good. Somehow, twenty-years later, those memories still could derail him.

"Please," he said capturing her eyes.

"I won't say anything to anyone. But Don. Judy, she's a doctor. If you ever get hurt and she has to treat you, she's going to see and ask."

She already has treated me and saw too much, Don thought to himself.

"Well," he said with false bravado, "I'll just have to make sure I stay healthy and out of sickbay. Problem solved." Don glanced at her commlink resting on a cargo box. "Wow. Would you look at the time. That late. Time for bed. Sounds like the storm is letting up. We need to be up bright and early in the morning." Lying down on his side, face to the tent wall, back to her, he pulled the blanket over his body like a protective cocoon, even though the tent was stuffy.

That gesture said it all to her. A small portion of her soul wondered if she was being too harsh when judging him. Yes, he did look after himself first, but he looked out for those around him too. Like Debbie the chicken. She pondered if you dug through all the layers that Don had built around himself, what the true man under it all was really like.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Dawn broke clear, and Maureen was out of the tent before the first rays of the sun hit the structure. Don woke a lot later and a lot slower. In a way, he was glad she was not in the tent to see him attempt to get dressed. He was moving like a very stiff, old man.

She had left an MRE out for him. Oatmeal. Very mom-like he supposed, but he wasn't about to eat that mush. Instead, he rooted through the supplies until he found a pouch of sugary junk cereal. That was the ticket. Now, if he could find some caffeine, life would be good.

After he finished eating, he stepped outside, his eyes roaming the area. Thankfully, they weren't covered in nine feet of black crap. However, there was still enough of it around to be a nuisance. The black, diamond shards were also present.

He saw Mrs. Robinson over by the upside-down ATV so, he moved in that direction. As he drew closer, he could see the inside of the C-8 was fairly free of black dust and shards. He was surprised. "How is it clean inside?"

The engineer smiled. "I'm rather good with a tarp. First, I used it to drag you to the tent and then to cover this opening. It wasn't a perfect fit though, some stuff got inside."

"Yeah, but not like it could have," Don said as he examined the inside of the C-8. "Amazing."

"I too, am good at what I do, West."

"Lady," he said sincerely, "I never doubted that for a second."

She jumped out of the C-8, picked up a small, mangled box about the size of her palm and showed it to him. Don took the box and gingerly turned it over in his hand. Giving a low whistle, he asked, "Where did you find this?"

"That and the remains of others are up there, attached to the bottom of the C-8."

Don gave a low whistle, "Son of a bitch."

"You really need to adopt a more family friendly set of expressions if you are going to be bunking in the Robinson's Jupiter."

"Yeah, Sorry. But what the hell, someone tried to blew us up and by us I mean you because I'm too lovable. I need to see this for myself," he declared as he handed her the piece and headed for the ladder on the back of the ATV. The cool thing was the ladder worked even if the vehicle was upside down.

"Be careful. There are some of those black shards around. And don't put too much pressure on that leg. Or your right arm."

"Yes, Mom," he muttered softly under his breath. Had he glanced over his shoulder as he gingerly climbed upwards, he would have seen the half amused/half exasperated expression on her face.

Usually, he was a pretty agile guy, but his current injuries made him feel extremely clumsy as he gingerly made his way across the undercarriage of the C-8. He went midway, stopped and surveyed the bottom of the vehicle. Luckily, whoever had planted the small explosives had not known much about their power, or how a Chariot was constructed. A large portion of the bottom was covered by removable plates to protect the undercarriage. The would-be-bomber hadn't removed the plates, but rather placed the charges on top which dampened their destructive power considerably. The ones that did the most damage, and most likely caused the vehicle to roll over, were the two near the more exposed wheel wells. The dumb luck placement of those explosives had been highly effective in disabling the vehicle.

Given the plates only looked scorched, but not penetrated, he doubted anything in those sections had been damaged. He made his way over to one of the wheel wells where a bomb had gone off. This was a different story. Definitely damaged. He imagined the other one looked about the same so he didn't bother making his way over there. He was already sweating from this minor exertion. Making his way back over to the ladder, he stumble-slid down it to the ground, then leaned against the C-8 for a minute to catch his breath.

Maureen came around the back and stared at him, fully expecting him to report out. And here, he thought he had left the military years ago. However, her persistent stare made him uncomfortable and he began to speak.

"So, the charges mainly did damage to the wheel structures," he grunted as he pushed off the C-8 surface to face her.

"Agreed. That's what I thought too when I was up there. Can you fix them?"

"Unless we can roll this puppy over, it really doesn't matter. And getting this thing back on its wheels…" he slowly shook his head.

She looked at him as if he were daff. "I've already figured out how to do that."

"Of course, you have," he sarcastically intoned as he wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. "Ok, I'll bite. How?"

She walked away from him and he took that as a silent command to follow. Making her way around the C-8, she stopped by the front bumper. "With that," she declared pointing at the winch.

"But the C-8 is on its back. We want to flip it sideways."

"It's all about the angles, how the cable is run. It will end up on its tires when I'm done," she explained with confidence.

"Really?" He couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice.

Giving him a 'really' look, she replied, "In theory." Walking towards the tent where she had left her computer, she called over her shoulder. "Do you want to see the calculations?"

"Not unless you want physical evidence, I didn't eat the oatmeal you left out for breakfast," he wise-cracked. He didn't dare tax his brain too much if he wanted the fruit loops to stay in his stomach. His head was aching and upsetting his belly.

Maureen stopped, turned, and took a good look at him in the morning light. He was very pale and unsteady on his feet. She needed him capable of working on the C-8 once it was righted. At the moment, he appeared ready to pass out again. What she had to do, with the cables and such, she could do on her own. "Look, I don't need your help. Why don't you take some more aspirin and rest for a few more hours?"

"Hours, huh. If you're sure you can do without me. I'm sure after a few hours of rest I'll be right as rain. Nothing like a few hours of sleep to erase the battering I've taken. Days, no, not days, but hours will put me right," he groused under his breath as he began shuffling towards the tent.

That's when it hit her; she had never even bothered to ask him how he felt, even though it was fairly deducible by simply looking at him. Still, it would have been common decency to inquire.

"Call me when you need something from me. That is if you think I can help. Otherwise I'll be out of the way, in here," he declared as he flipped the tent open. "Healing. Completely. In a few hours." The tent flap closed behind him and though it didn't operate like a real door, somehow, she felt like it had been slammed shut in her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered under her breath as she turned away to get to work. She hadn't meant to be so uncaring. But the worry of being away from her family weighed so heavily on her mind, it seemed to engage her entire conscious, leaving little time for any other matters, like manners or common decency. However, with determination, she shook off her guilt and began her work. There were things that had to be done.

It took her the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon to set up everything properly, according to her plan. She doubled checked figures, made a couple of tweaks and then stood back to examine her handiwork.

"You missed lunch," a voice behind her called out, startling her. Don limped to her side to present his offering. "P&J. Figured you wouldn't want to waste time eating and it was the quickest thing I could find."

As she took the package from him, her stomach let out a pitiful moan, which made her realize she had lost track of time. It wasn't unusual when she was engrossed in a project for her to forget about things, like eating.

"Thanks," she said as she tore opened the wrapper. After taking a bite, she presented a peace offering of her own. "How are you feeling?"

Caught off-guard by her inquiry, Don gave her a surprised glance, before quickly adverting his gaze. "Ready to go, Boss."

She watched silently as he stood there, most of the weight on his left leg, trying to open the sandwich bag with his right hand, which was obviously giving him issues. Finally, resorting to his teeth to rip the top off, he accomplished his goal, removed the sandwich and took a small bite.

"Is your hand OK? Are you going to be able to use it to fix the Chariot when its back on its wheels?" She realized that her inquiry, once again, came out rather cold and self-centered.

He gingerly swallowed the tiny mouthful of sandwich, wondering how his stomach was going to react. "Somehow I get the feeling you are more concerned about my ability to fix the vehicle then my actual health," he lightly joshed her, even though he knew it was the truth.

"It's just that…" she started to say before he cut her off.

"Look. You are anxious to get back to your family. I get it. I'm just a means to that end. Though, in case it hasn't dawned on you, I, too, want to get back to the Jupiter. And Debbie."

She began to speak, but he ignored her strolling away from her to examine what she'd done with the winch and cables. "If this contraption of yours works and gets the C-8 back on her feet, have no fear, I'll get her running again," he said confidently. "Even one handed, I'm the best damn mechanic you'll ever meet." Looking back over his shoulder at her, he gave her one of his big grins. "The best."

She snorted at him before taking another bite of her sandwich. After swallowing, she declared, "You're rather cocky, you know."

Tilting his head sideways he replied, "Cocky. I dunna about that. Confident? Hell, yes. I'm very good at what I do. Are You ready to get this thing on the road?"

"I am," she answered in a muffled tone as she shoved the last of her sandwich in her mouth.

With the remote for the winch in hand, Maureen walked what she considered a safe distance from the C-8. Don, half a sandwich still in his left hand, followed after her, coming to a stop by her side. He heard her stomach growl again and he held out the half-eaten sandwich to her. "Wanna bite? You sound like you are still kinda of hungry."

She glanced at the half-eaten sandwich, then up at him. "Really?"

With a shrug he said, "Well, you wolfed down that first P&J so quickly you might need to do a finger count-check." He grinned. "And I heard your stomach grumble just now."

She remained unamused by his sass.

"I could go get another, unspoiled sandwich for you, if you want to wait as I hobble back to the tent." Her traitorous stomach let out another growl. "Or you could finish mine. I'm done and I've had my shots." He held it out to her once more.

"No…Thank you," she added as an afterthought.

"Your loss," he said glibly as he dropped his hand back to his side. "Ok, nutty professor. Start your contraption up."

She pressed the button on the remote and the winch sluggishly began to rotate at a slow rpm, tightening the braided cable. Gradually, the cables she had strung around, the trees and various portions of the C-8 began to tighten. Once all the slack was gone, she upped the rpms to increase the pressure. As the cable tightened further, it began emitting a humming noise that reverberated through the air. Inch by inch, the C-8 started to roll off its back and on to its side.

"Geez, lady it's working!" Don exclaimed in surprise as he watched the series of interconnecting cables do its job.

"You had doubts?" she flippantly asked as she watched her creation work as she envisioned. It was thrilling to bring something from a thought into a working product.

"Hmmm," he said distractedly as he watched the Chariot reach the balance point from rising upward to coming downward, tires headed for the ground.

The winch on the front was working hard as it was not designed to operate in the manner which it had been rigged. Normally, it was used for pulling in a straight-line-forward manner, not the strange web-weaving Maureen had had to use to get the angles right to raise and tip the ATV.

She knew something was bothering the mechanic. "The winch can handle the load, right?"

"The winch, it's powerful enough," he slowly replied as he cocked his head to the side, obviously listening to something. "How much of the cable did you use?"

"Nearly all of it to get it rigged right. Is that an issue?" she asked with concern wondering if she should have consulted him since he did know a lot about the ATV.

"No, not really. I mean it's best to leave a layer on the barrel, but not necessary," he told her as he watched the Chariot start to descend towards the grass. The tension on the cable grew even tighter and he could see it vibrating under its load.

"I did, leave some on the roller."

"Then there should be no issue…" He hesitated, listening as the humming noise that had been low and steady, abruptly rise in pitch. Suddenly, Don let loose with a creative string of curses as he threw his body into hers, knocking her to the ground. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his hand ended up being smashed into her face as they tumbled sideways towards the grass.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

She didn't get out more than a "What the hell…" when the cable snapped and the loose end whipped through the air where they had been standing a half-second ago. Had Don not knocked them over, the metal cable, at that speed, would have caused serious and most likely fatal consequences as it sliced through their vulnerable flesh.

When the cable broke, the Chariot came crashing down to the ground. However, since it was built to handle rough conditions, it was not further damaged. It bounced and rocked a few times on its tires before settling down.

Don, who had half fallen on her, rolled off to the side, breathing heavily. The fall had aggravated his injuries and he tried to stifle the groans that wanted to escape his lips. He was sure where he wasn't previously bruised, he was now.

Maureen recovered much quicker, sitting up and looking around, peanut butter smeared on her cheek from the sandwich that had been in Don's hand. "What happened?"

Curling up in a more fetal like-position, Don grunted, "The cable broke."

"Why? You said it would hold."

Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths between words. "It should have. But hell. Space. Does strange things… to materials… sometimes. Unexpected. We forget… we haven't had this level of sophisticated space travel… for long. There's always… a risk. You signed… the waiver."

Sitting up, Maureen looked over at the upright vehicle and despite her near brush with death, she felt exhilarated; her plan had worked.

She switched her gaze to the man who had just saved her life, who was still curled up on the ground. "Well, it worked. My plan."

"Great. Give me a minute here." Opening his eyes, he attempted to sit up and he succeeded, but not without a lot of pain. "Looks like you got my sandwich, anyways."

She rubbed a hand over her cheek removing the peanut butter. She looked at her now dirty hand with distaste. "The Chariot is upright. Ready to be worked on," she declared as she wiped her sticky hand on the grass.

"Wow. You are one hell of a task master. I just saved your life, at considerable discomfort to me, I might add. Maybe a five-minute rest break would be nice," he complained as he stared at her in disbelief. "Oh, and maybe a quick thanks would be in order too. Though, I get it. It's my duty to make sure you aren't hurt. Your husband made that very clear. If I had not knocked you over, and well, brought you home in less than stellar condition, like without your head, I'd be a dead man anyways. So, I guess it really doesn't matter that I nearly killed myself saving your precious ass."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…"

Don waved her off. "Save it lady."

Maureen swallowed hard, then said, "I'm grateful for you saving me. If you hadn't knocked me down, I would most likely have died."

Glancing from Maureen to the Chariot, he sighed as he began to climb to his feet. Why the hell did doing the right thing have to hurt so damn much, he thought.

She had to give him credit for once he started working on the Chariot, he didn't stop other than a few quick breaks which she suspected were because of pain. At one point she saw him struggling to adjust a part with a wrench using his right hand. It was obvious that the damaged, tendons in his arm were not up to the task as he dropped the tool more than once. The third time it happened she walked over to him as he let loose with a string of curses.

Sensing her presence, he glanced over his shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered as he bent over to retrieve the wrench. "I promise. I'm working as fast as I can."

"I came over to see if I could be of assistance. It looks like your hand is giving you problems."

He studied her for a few seconds as if he were considering her offer, then gave a small headshake. Switching the wrench-like tool to his left hand, he went back to work. "On ships and such you often have to work in tight spaces. Helps to be somewhat ambidextrous."

With a shrug, she walked away to work on the radio again. She had retrieved the antenna and was able to remount it. She also had rerouted and reconnected the cables that had been damaged in the tumble. Luckily, there were some spare parts for the unit in the Chariot's rear compartment, so she had everything she needed to finish the job. When it was done, she switched the unit on, hoping the batteries had enough charge to power the unit. The power light glowed and the channel numbers lit up.

Switching to the channel she knew the Jupiter 2 would monitor, she picked up the mike and spoke. "This is Chariot 8 to the Jupiter 2. Do you copy?" In the old days one might expect to hear static while waiting for a reply. In today's world the static had been done away with leaving deafening silence. She thought the static would be nicer.

After a few seconds, she tried again. "Jupiter 2, this is Chariot 8. Do you read me?" Silence settled over the cabin again.

With an edge of frustration to her voice, she gave it one more go. "Jupiter 2. Anyone. This is Chariot 8. Do you copy!"

Just as she was about to hang up the mike, a voice rang forth. "Maureen? Is that you? This is Dr. Smith."

Maureen was simultaneously elated and dismayed to hear who answered. "Yes, Dr. Smith. It is. Is John around? Or Judy?"

"No. No they are not. Sorry. Just me. No one but me," she said in a voice that had that peculiar apologetic tone Dr. Smith used. The one that didn't sound like she was really all that remorseful.

"Where is everyone?" Maureen asked, not really wanting to talk to the doctor.

"Oh…ah…here and there. I think Will and the Robot are outside, ah, playing catch. And, ah, Judy and Penny went to the Wantanabe's Jupiter or maybe it was the one with the boy? Someone wasn't feeling well and Judy went to see them and Penny kept her company. Something like that. I wasn't paying that much attention as I'm not their babysitter."

Tightly controlling the frustration she was feeling, she asked, "And John?"

"John?" she repeated as if she'd momentarily forgotten who John was. "John. Yes. John went to some bigwig meeting. With Victor. At his Jupiter," she added as she looked out the front glass of the Jupiter two and John who was standing below talking to Judy. She hoped they stayed outside for a while. "Yes. Important meeting. Not for people like me. Only…ah…leaders. I stayed here. Is everything OK there? Why are you calling. Is there an issue?"

Yes, there was an issue, Maureen thought to herself. Someone tried to kill us by sabotaging the Chariot. But she didn't really want to tell that to anyone yet, since she had no idea who did this and who to trust. She had no reason not to trust the doctor, but…

"You sound stressed. I am a psychiatrist you know. I am good at reading voices. You sound like something is wrong. Have you made it to the Resolution?" Dr. Smith probed.

Maureen debated about lying, but she also knew the vehicles could be tracked so she went with a half-truth. "We had some mechanical difficulties with the C-8. West is fixing it as we speak and we should be underway again soon."

"Wow. Must have been some issues to slow you down for days. I mean I thought it would only take one day to get to the crash site. But, well, what do I know. And West, he is ok?" she asked in a tone that expressed curiosity, but had an undertone or doubt mixed in.

"Yes. Of course," Maureen lied. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"Well, with such a major problem, I thought…well never mind. I'm happy everyone is fine. What did you want me to tell John?"

That was a good question. What did she want to tell John through the good doctor? "Just tell him all is well, but it's going to take us a few more days than we planned."

"How many more days?" she asked in that odd, probing, curiosity tone she used which set people's teeth on edge.

Another very good question Maureen didn't want to answer or even knew for sure. "Three, maybe four days," she finally settled on. If they got started tomorrow, it was a half day more to the Resolution, a half day loading supplies and one and half days to get back.

"Wow. You don't sound to certain. Are you sure everything is ok?"

"Yes. Thanks. Got to go. Ask John to contact me when he gets back," Maureen requested.

"Yes. Yes. Of course. I will do that. Be safe," Dr. Smith replied quickly, wanting to bring this conversation to an end as John and Judy just disappeared, which meant they could be coming onboard.

Hanging up the mike, she looked fugitively over her shoulder before reaching over and shutting the radio off. If she thought she had more time, she would have tried to further disable it, but she didn't want to get caught. Quickly hurrying from the cockpit, she scurried to the center of the Jupiter, sat at the table, propped her feet up and cracked open a book she'd been reading earlier. When John and Judy entered, she glanced up at them smiled, then changed her expression to a frown of concern. "You look worried, John. What's wrong? Can I be of assistance?"

"You've been sitting here long?" he asked.

"Oh yes. For hours reading my book. I like studying. To improve my mind," she said in a grave tone.

"You didn't hear anything on the radio from Maureen, did you?" John asked as he looked in the direction of the cockpit.

"No. No. Nothing at all. And I would have, sitting here, heard if she called. I have very good hearing and it's not far away. No. It has been very quiet." She watched as John frowned and ran his hand through his short hair. "You look worried. Are you worried, John?"

"I, well, I thought she would have checked in by now," he answered truthfully. "Though, they are quite far away and we don't really know how well signals propagate in this planet's atmosphere."

Judy piped up. "Yeah, we had trouble reaching you guys when we were getting the fuel."

"I'm sure that's it," Dr. Smith crooned. "Too far away to make contact. But, if you like, I can go sit in the cockpit and read my book. Just to be extra sure I would hear any call."

"No, that's alright. I will go and try to raise her myself, now," John said as he turned and headed to the Jupiter's cockpit.

Dr. Smith rose to her feet and started to say something when Will came bursting into the room. "Dad, Judy. Victor wants you outside. He said he needs you and Judy. Someone got hurt and he needs help!"

"Oh, dear," Dr. Smith said with false sincerity. "You best go. I'll stay here. Listen for Maureen. Watch after Will if you want."

"I'll go grab my kit," Judy declared as she hurried from the room. "Meet you outside."

"I'll just go try to raise Maureen before I go," John said starting to walk away again towards the cockpit.

Dr. Smith sprang to his side and placed a hand on his arm to halt him. "Oh. I'll go do that for you. It sounds like you need to go right away. Like it is an emergency. I can try to raise Maureen on the radio while you take care of whatever the crisis is. And look, here is Judy already. You must get going."

John hesitated until Will said, "Victor did seem to be very anxious Dad."

John looked from Will to Dr. Smith. "I guess you're right. I should go. You will try for me? To raise Maureen?"

"Of course. And the minute I hear something I will radio you," Dr. Smith assured him. "Now go!"

"Come on. Let's go," Judy said hurrying away. After a second of hesitation, John hurried after her leaving Dr. Smith and Will alone in the room.

Dr. Smith looked over at Will and gave him a big smile. "Now you go outside and ah, keep watch with the Robot. Maybe your Mom is already on her way back."

"I can go with you and help with the radio," Will offered.

"No. No need. I know how to do it. We all had training. Remember. I did very good at radio training. No. You go outside and keep watch. I have it all under control here."

"Ok. If you're sure," Will said with uncertainty.

"Very sure. Now scoot."

Will nodded before heading back outside where the Robot was still waiting.

Inside, Dr. Smith headed back to the cockpit, and after checking she was truly alone, she sabotaged the radio. It wasn't sophisticated, she just yanked a cable out, but it was effective. Then she took her book, sat in the co-pilot chair and took a little nap. Everything was under control once again in her little play. Apparently, she did cause an issue with the C-8, but she had not killed Maureen or Don. She wasn't sure if she was glad or sad. One thing she was sure, with them alive it was going to be a little more difficult. But, she was the mastermind of deception so she'd make a few course corrections and go with the flow once more.

Back in the C-8, Maureen climbed out of the cab and went to look for Don. It was getting dark and they probably needed to stop soon. She was anxious to see how far he got in his repair.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

She found him, or to be precise his feet, protruding from under the C-8. She didn't see any light coming from under the vehicle and she wondered how he could see what he was doing.

"Can you see what you are doing?" she addressed the feet.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm a space mechanic and space is dark. Very, very dark," the disembodied voice answered from under the C-8.

"Your helmet and suit have lights. And I'm sure you have portable lights you use," she replied in her practical manner.

There was some rustling noise before Don slid clumsily out from under the ATV and looked up at her. "Ok. You got me. The light ran out of juice, so I was napping under there."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Really?"

"No," he replied as he sat up, then slowly rose, grimacing. "But my light did die a minute ago

"Is it fixed?"

"The light? Not until the sun comes up to recharge the solars."

"I meant the Chariot," she replied, clearly annoyed at his verbal shenanigans.

He shook his head. "Not totally. I need a few more hours and light to finish up. But there's no more portables with a charge other than the one in the tent. Figured you might want that for tonight."

She sighed, before turning and heading towards the tent. Don limped after her.

Once they were both within the perimeter of the force field, she switched it on, watching as the lighted poles blinked on one by one. Satisfied they were protected, they entered the tent and Don retired to his mat while she dug through their remaining MREs.

"Beef or chicken?" she asked holding up two kits.

"What if I'm a vegan?" he inquired as he tried to find a comfortable position on his bedroll.

Glancing down at their remaining food, she offered, "Applesauce and what I think might be a package of pickles and peanut butter crackers."

"I'll take the beef. I never really bought into the whole sustainable, cleaning eating concept. When you grow up having to eat whatever you can find you tend to be more fluid on cuisine."

Silently, she activated the heating element then handed the meal over to him. After starting her own, she went over to her bedroll and sat down.

"How did you make out with the radio?" Don asked as he leaned back against the crate he was using as a back rest.

"Fixed. Got in touch with the Jupiter. Explained to them what happened so they wouldn't be worried when we are not back on schedule."

"How's Debbie?"

"Debbie?" she echoed.

"Debbie, my chicken that your eldest is watching."

Making a derogatory noise, she said, "I didn't have time to ask about your chicken."

Giving her a hurt look, he stated, "But I'll bet you had time to ask about your family; how they were doing."

"There is a difference between my family and your chicken."

Reaching for his now-heated meal, Don lectured, "That is a narrow-minded view of the concept of family. Family doesn't mean blood-related. Family is people bonded together for some reason. A common goal. A situation. Family looks after each other. Has each other's back. Saves their life like Debbie saved mine. That is family."

Picking up her own meal, she sighed. She didn't feel like prolonging this conversation, so she simply said, "Next time I will ask about Debbie, alright."

Around a mouth full of food, Don grunted. After swallowing he added, "That's all I ask. Anything else new on the home front?"

"No," she said in a less than convincing voice.

"That no sounded more like a maybe, or even a yes."

"It's just that I only got to speak to Dr. Smith and…" She paused when she saw him flinch on the mention of the doctor's name. "What?"

Don dug a little harder into his meal then necessary, slopping the hot contents over the edge on to his hand. Cursing under his breath, he set the container down before pouring some water over the burn. Maureen grabbed a sterile pad and the burn cream from the medical kit near her and tossed it to the mechanic. Don applied the cream then covered it with the pad, before letting out a sigh of relief as the burning sensation diminished.

"Something wrong between you and the good doctor?" Maureen pried. She had a definite feeling he was holding something back.

"I don't know I'd used the word 'good' to describe a person who leaves another person out in the storm to die, especially one that claims to be a person she is not," he muttered darkly. He wasn't one to point out others deceptions, unless absolutely necessary. People had all sorts of reasons in life to pretend to be who they were not. He ought to know given his life. "Didn't Judy say anything, to you, about Smith?"

"No. Not really. There wasn't much time between when you guys returned with the fuel and we left on this trek."

"I see," Don replied neutrally as he picked up his meal again and began aimlessly stirring it. "Nothing about what was in the Jupiter that fell over the ledge that I risked my life to save?"

She gave him a querying stare. "Did I miss something?"

Exasperated, Don stirred his meal more vigorously. "Great. When I do something heroic everyone forgets. But one little mistake and I can never live it down. Sheesh." Internally, he was debating if he should tell her what he found on that Jupiter about the real Doctor Smith.

"Spit it out, West. If my family is in danger, I need to know!"

"You mean like you finding out we were going to turn into crispy critters, but neglected to tell any of the rest of us?" he accused her.

Now, it was her turn to scowl at her dinner. "Not true. I told everyone."

A slight smile showed up on Don's face. "Oh yeah? And how long was it between you finding out we were going to be roasted and telling the rest of us? A few hours? A few days? Did you consider not telling us at all?"

"Of course, I wouldn't keep something like that to myself," she cried out with indignation.

Taking a spork-full of his now cooled meal, he chewed while he contemplated his reply. After swallowing he drawled, "I dunno about that. If it assured you and your families safety or survival you might be tempted."

"You think that little of me?" she said in surprise.

Shrugging, he replied, "I really don't know you well enough to be sure. I'm forming my opinion, of you, and what you would do, based on a few days of knowledge, right?" He took another mouthful, chewed, then continued. "You are all about your family, mostly your kids, but John to some degree too. Dunno what happened there, but he is still earning his way back into the pack." He thought he saw her flinch at his commentary. "So, if it was about the survival of your family, yeah, you might screw over the rest. Man, I wish I were that tight with you. Would be nice if someone, say you, had some faith and believed in me...watched out for my back."

Maureen has the distinct feeling she had just been lectured, or bitch-slapped, by this man she hardly knew. And, a piece of her conscience nagged her, he wasn't totally wrong. She did value her family over everything else. Hence quitting her lucrative job and spending a huge part of her savings to make this trip to Alpha Centauri. And in the few days she'd known West, she had judged him...perhaps harshly her conscience added. But, she reminded herself, he had shown very self-surviving tendencies. Like you, towards your family her inner voice nagged. Finally, she spoke out loud.

"Look. I don't like or dislike you really. Like you said, we barely know each other. I respect that you probably are a very good mechanic..."

"I'm the best," he interjected.

"But, you have to admit, we didn't meet under the best of circumstances."

"Interpretation."

"You are an admitted smuggler..."

"Import export businessman..."

"You did ask for payment to show where the fuel was..."

"Sheesh, Judy told you about that but not about Dr. Smith..."

"And speaking of Dr. Smith," because they finally were back on topic, "what do you know about her?"

Crumbling up his meal pouch, he tossed it in the trash bag. Then he rearranged himself into a more comfortable position before he began his tale.

"At great personal risk to myself, I climbed back onboard the Jupiter which was precariously hanging over the edge of the cliff. We should pause here for a moment to admire the job I did landing that Jupiter."

"On the edge of a cliff," Maureen felt the need to remind him.

"Exactly. On the edge, but not over."

She shook her head sadly at him but didn't interrupt again.

"Inside, I went to the cabin labeled Dr. Smith. Only it wasn't a her, it was a him. Pictures, ID badge for Dr. Smith. A male Dr. Smith."

A shiver ran up Maureen spine. This woman was with her family. Had been alone with her children. "Who is she?"

Don shrugged. "No idea." And as if reading her mind he added, "But Judy knows she isn't whom she seems. Don't worry. She'll keep an eye on the good doctor, keep the family safe."

"I need to contact John. Right away. Let him know." She began to rise to her feet when a horrible screeching sound rent the night.

The noise had Don on his feet too. "What the hell is that?"

Together, they moved towards the tent opening and then outside. It was a dark night which made visibility extremely poor. The lantern they had grabbed on the way out did little to cut through the murk. The scream came again and they turned towards the sound of the noise, but all they could see was a vague shadowy object outside the perimeter of the force field. They impression they got of the shadowy object was large and scary. Whatever it was must have spotted them for suddenly it charged the barrier, hitting it causing an explosion of energy and another scream, which had the two humans flinching and jumping backwards. But the barrier held and they were safe. Whatever it was must have learned its lesson because it turned away to find easier prey.

After it left, they still stood there for a few minutes, shaken by what they heard but couldn't see.

"We need to go back to the Jupiter. Whatever that was, it's not safe. We need to warn the others."

Don turned and headed back into the tent. "The Jupiter has the perimeter around it."

"Ours yes, but only because we left the kids alone. Not all of the Jupiters deployed their systems and that thing sounds dangerous. Plus, the whole thing with Dr. Smith not being, well Dr. Smith is also unsettling."

"I'm sure Judy told John and are taking precautions," he replied as he dropped onto his bedroll. "She's a smart girl."

Maureen settled on her own blankets. "She is, but she's also still very young. Hasn't seen what the world can really be like, especially people. She is too trusting at times I think and she leaps before she looks, gets herself in trouble."

"But for the right reasons," he pointed out.

Maureen laid down. "Trusting people rarely works out as you think it will. People are...not was well intentioned as they seem."

Somehow, Don felt he, and a large portion of humanity, had just been dismissed. He didn't bother replying, feeling he would get nowhere, so he turned on his side, closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep.

"Tomorrow, after you finish fixing the C-8, we're heading back to the Jupiter. I will make do without the parts from the Resolute," she declared.

Don grunted what could have been a yes, no, but most likely was a whatever. One thing he had learned by now was arguing with Maureen when she had her mind made up was a waste of breath.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

The next morning, good to his word, within an hour he had the C-8 up and fully running. It still needed some work when he got back to a Jupiter and had access to more tools and parts, but it would hold for now.

Maureen, of course, drove back, but unlike the nearly silent trip out, now she peppered him with questions on Dr. Smith. He told her everything he knew, starting on the fateful meeting on the Resolute, to the crash landing, the trip through the country and finished with their reunion on the Jupiter. He was honest with her, even to the point of admitting he had been conned by her.

Maureen listened, asked a lot of questions, which he had no answer too, then grew quiet.

"I guess this lowers your opinion of me yet another notch," Don said evenly as he watched the landscape go by through the window of the Chariot. "I brought the snake into the Garden of Eden."

She glanced at him after he made his Biblical reference. "You don't strike me as a religious man."

Shrugging, he replied, "I'm open to everything and anything that gets me through a tough situation. You, I bet, where raised with a strong religious background. Farmer's daughter. Church on Sundays."

"Surprisingly, not. I might be a 'country girl' in your vernacular, but with two scientists as parents my upbringing was more science then religion."

That conversation petered out and they stayed silent for the rest of the trip back. They drove straight through, only stopping for bio-breaks as needed. On the way, Maureen had reached out to the Jupiter again, but got no reply. So, she switched channels and made a general call to anyone listening. Victor's wife was the one that answered. The two women chatted for a while and before they broke off, she agreed to find John and ask him to call Maureen.

About two hours later, the call came through. John apologized for the delay, but it had taken them time to figure out that the radio wasn't working and then to repair it. It puzzled them how the cable had become disconnected. When Maureen heard that Dr. Smith had been alone, in the cockpit, she had a pretty good idea how the wire came off. However, she kept her suspicions to herself until she could be alone with John. She did, however, roll her eyes at Don.

Even though it was late when they rolled up to the Jupiter, the outside lights were blazing and her whole family quickly assembled to greet her on the ramp. Don watched the family reunion from the doorway of the C-8 with a stab of envy. Something about the Robinson's made him regret his upbringing, a past event he thought he'd moved passed. But their obvious love for each other made him feel very much alone. With a quiet sigh, he got out of the vehicle and made his way up the ramp. No one noticed him as he walked past the group into the Jupiter to find Debbie. Maybe she'd be happy to see him, well if chickens could be happy. He really had no idea, but it was better than standing around waiting for someone to notice him…if they did.

After a bit, Judy did think about Don, but when she looked around, she didn't see him. She focused back on her mother who was telling the tale of the C-8 rolling over. Maureen finished, at least with the part of the journey she wanted to talk about in front of her children, then gave John a knowing glance that said she'd talk more to him later. She gave her three children another hug before sending the youngest two off to bed because it was very late.

After Penny and Will headed off to their rooms, the Robot trailing behind Will like a dark shadow, Maureen inquired where Dr. Smith was located. John said the woman had gone to bed early, and he guessed, like Don, she didn't want to interrupt the family reunion. Maureen had a different idea on why the doctor was making herself scarce, but she kept it to herself.

Now that it was just the adults, Maureen told them the details she had glossed over with the younger Robinson's present. When she described what happened to Don, Judy grew concerned.

"I think I should go find him and check out his injuries. If they are infected, the sooner we treat them the better, especially on a foreign planet with unknown microbes," Judy declared as she rose from the chair she'd been perched on.

"After you are done, head off to bed. We'll catch up in the morning on Dr. Smith," Maureen said. Judy nodded and left to find Don, while Maureen and John finished their discussions.

Judy headed to the storage room Don usually bunked in when he was onboard overnight and found the mechanic sitting on his makeshift bunk, stroking Debbie. Politely, she knocked her knuckles lightly on the doorframe to get his attention. When he looked up, she said, "Mom said you got pretty banged up when the Chariot rolled over. Come to sick bay so I can check you out."

"Thanks for looking after Debbie. She's my family," Don said, seemingly ignoring what Judy had requested.

"She's a chicken, Don."

Sadly shaking his head, he whispered to Debbie. "Like mother, like daughter."

"Look, Don. I'm not kidding. As the ship's doctor, I'll order you to sickbay. I won't have anyone else falling ill or dying on my watch. Now, put that chicken down and move!"

Don gently put Debbie back in her container, rose and headed out the door towards sickbay. When they arrived, Judy flipped on the equipment then motioned Don to hop up on the bed. In the bright lights of sickbay, she could see the wear and tear on his body. The instruments told her a lot, but she also knew she had to do a visual inspection, especially on the wounds on the shoulder and the thigh.

"I trust you have shorts on?" she asked in a clinical tone. "Or do you need a gown?"

"What I need is to go to bed and get some rest. I'll be right as rain in the morning. Just wait and see." He started to slide off the table and was greeted by a furious looking woman holding a very large needle.

"We can do this the easy way, where you cooperate and do as you are told, or the hard way where I sedate you with this very large needle, then examine you. Your choice." She placed one hand on her hip and waited.

"I'll cooperate," he grumbled, unhappily.

"Good." She laid the needle down then turned away to give him some privacy. "Strip to your shorts, please." She fiddled with some instruments until she heard his clothes hit the ground. Turning around, she looked at this body and unprofessionally gasped.

"I know. I'm in great shape. Impressive isn't it," he said brazenly.

"You look like an impressionist painting. I've never seen such vivid and extensive bruising," she declared as she took a step nearer.

"Well, it was like being a tennis ball in a dryer. Try as I might, I just kept bouncing around inside the C-8."

Regaining her professionalism, she ordered him to lay on his back while she examined the bruises on his chest before moving down to the wound on his thigh. As her fingers touched the skin on his leg, Don prayed nothing would betray how uncomfortable he was with her proximity to his lower regions.

Finally, after a lot of visualizations of cold showers, she told him to roll over. He was so relieved he forgot about the scars on his back. He knew she had discovered them when her fingers, like her mother, traced the faint scars.

Turning his head sideways and catching her eye, he entreated, "Please. Don't ask now. I will tell you some other time. I promise."

She studied his dark brown eyes, saw the discomfort residing there and gave him a brief nod to show she understood. Clinically, she went back to her examination, studying the wound on his shoulder. Her mom had done a really good job and it only needed a little more work on it, which she quickly performed with her own tools. When she was done, she asked him to sit up and she gave him two broad spectrum shots to ward off any infections, not that she had seen any signs so far. But again, with foreign germs it was better to be safe.

"I'm done. You look pretty good overall. Nothing some rest won't take care of. And take it easy with that right arm until those tendons heal."

He slid of the bench and reached for his clothes on the floor.

"Oh no, you don't," she said as she kicked the dirty clothes further away with her foot. "Take a shower and put on clean clothes or you will come down with some disease."

For a moment they stood toe to toe, locked in a stare down of wills. Before it went wherever it was going to go, Maureen and John walked into sickbay and broke the moment.

"How is he?" Maureen asked.

The spell broken, Judy took a few steps back and said, "You did a good job, Mom. He'll heal."

John whistled when he saw the bruises covering Don's body. "Impressive, West. That must hurt like hell."

A grin appeared on Don's face and even though he was the only one in the room in his skivvies, he pulled off being self-assured. "Anything to protect your little lady from harm."

"You got those bruises before you saved my life," Maureen pointed out.

"Maybe, but…"

Before Don could offer up his explanation, which was sure to be colorful, John reached over and clapped Don on the shoulder, before he realized the error of his way. Don, yelped as a wave of pain rippled through his body.

"Oh-geez I'm sorry, Don. I just wanted to thank you for saving my wife's life," John said contritely.

"You…have…a…funny…way…of…doing…it," Don groaned. "If you Robinson's will excuse me…I'm going to bed before anyone else tries to thank me." With as much dignity as he could muster, he limped out of the sickbay towards his room.

After he was gone, Judy turned to his Mom and asked, "You saw them. The scars?"

Maureen nodded her head.

"Did he tell you how he got them?" Judy inquired.

"Yes." When she saw Judy was going to ask how, she added, "But that is his story to tell."

Judy nodded, knowing her mother was right and she really had no right to ask her. "Goodnight," she said as she too left the sickbay leaving John and Maureen alone.

"Should we be worried?" John asked as he watched his daughter leave the room.

Not exactly sure what John was asking, and not wanting to go down the path he might be suggesting, she instead answered, "Judy is a good doctor. Let's go to bed." With that she left the room.

John watched her leave, then flicked off the lights and followed. This journey was already off to a dramatic start. They didn't need any more complications. Maybe he'd have a few words, with West, just to be sure the mechanic understood where the lines were drawn.

THE END


End file.
